


Royal Rack

by Xyriath



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: AU Appropriate Names, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Female Roy Mustang, Filthy, Food Kink, Human Table Kink, Human Wine Rack, Improbable Penetration Timeline, Object Penetration, Objectification, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Slavery, Xerxes | Cselkcess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Royal Mustang soon learns that "wine duty" means something very different to Xerxesian royalty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royal Rack

**Author's Note:**

> An anonymous commission, and arguably one of the filthiest things I've ever written. Definitely the filthiest thing I've posted! Maybe not the most awful pun I've ever made in a title. Enjoy. ;)

Wine duty.  Royal could do this.

It stung, still, the memory of that golden-eyed brat who called himself king—he had to at least be five years her junior—raking his eyes over her slowly, taking in every inch of her exposed skin, lingering on the lines where the scarce cloth covering met her skin.  She had known she was being thrown into the deep end when she had been shipped to Xerxes, her political career cut short, as a “peace offering.”  Xerxes’s court was infamous for its hedonistic debauchery, and its slaves—and citizens—were said to spend more times with their legs open than closed.

But King Edris had dismissed her with a, “Have her ready for wine duty this evening.”  Royal wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or insulted.  She could pour wine, of course, but it seemed she was cursed to be perpetually underestimated and given demeaning tasks unsuited to her station.

The collar she was immediately fitted with, she was told, gold with royal blue etchings, meant that she was not to be touched by anyone in Xerxes without permission of His Majesty.  Though the collar could change at any moment, she found it strange that he would be so generous.

She also found it strange that, when the evening came, the servants assigned to tend to her clothed her only in a simple shift; given the dress of the servants she had seen attending the grand assembly at which she had been presented, she had expected something much more exposing.  But she didn’t complain as they led her through the halls and into the grand dining room.

She blinked around at the commotion as servants scrambled to get ready for the event.  Shouldn’t she be in the kitchen—

A pair of hands gripped her shift, tugging it over her head in one swift motion.

She whirled in anger, arms wrapping around to cover herself.  “Can you not see the _collar?_ ” she snapped.

“Oh, I see it,” the guard murmured, raising one of her eyebrows.  If Royal hadn’t been so flustered, she would have thought the guard was lovely: gorgeously shaped eyes, a face between sweet and mischievous, short dark hair, and an attractive mole on her left cheek.  “This is on orders.”

She placed a hand on Royal’s waist, pushing her back towards the table until she ran into it, sprawling back with the force of the collision.  The guard reached down to grab her legs, hoisting her the rest of the way, until Royal was lying on her back on the table, completely naked.  Royal struggled to prop herself up on her elbows, but the guard held her down.  “What are you _doing?_ ”

“You’re on wine duty.”  The guard, satisfied that Royal wasn’t trying to get up again, moved down to the lower half of the table, nudging Royal’s legs open.  “Weren’t you told?”

“Yes, but doesn’t that…”  As she saw the guard lift the bottle of wine, the angle at which it was being held, it clicked, her face going hot with shock.  “…Oh.”

The guard just offered her a sympathetic smile before reaching out to press a thumb gently against Royal’s clit.

Royal gasped with shock at that, jerking her hips, nails digging into the table beside her.  Was this even real?  Moments ago she had thought she would only be serving wine.  Now—

Now she was to be a _display._

The thought sent an unfair spark of dark anticipation shivering through her, and she could hear the guard make a pleased noise as the slickness of arousal trickled out from her cunt.  She dragged her fingers through it, sliding it up to rub more at Royal’s clit as she slid two fingers inside.

Royal gasped again, biting back a moan, as her traitor body responded, her cunt loosening, practically dripping within moments.  She could feel the eyes on her as the guard worked her open, servants turning to watch the new Amestrian slave and the way her thighs shook.        The guard simply watched her impassively, adding a third, then a fourth finger.  Royal gasped at the fullness as the woman’s hand slid into her, biting back a yelp, arching up—

And then the hand pulled back, the guard watching her sternly.

“You’re not to move.”

The words were the only instruction Royal received as the guard lowered the wine bottle, pressing it up against her cunt.  She gasped, biting her lip as the edge of the base caught the opening, then slid inside, stretching her wide open.

Royal _groaned_ as the hard glass pressed up against the walls of muscle inside her, stretching her further than she had ever been stretched before; she had had sex before, but never like this—!

The bottle twisted, her body sending out another gush of wetness as it betrayed her enjoyment, the pleasure of the sensation.  The guard pulled back, and Royal lay there, gasping.

So what now, she thought, lying there, ears ringing as she tried to concentrate on her surroundings rather than the glass bottle stretching her open, pressing up against intimate depths, unyielding and sending little frissons of pleasure coursing through her as she clenched around it.  She risked a glance to the side and saw others, men and women, being set up the way she had been, some chained, some on their stomachs, some gagged.  None of them looked surprised, or even upset; in fact, many went to it with a smirk on their faces.

A form stepped up next to her, cutting off her line of sight.  She looked up at him, eyes wide as they slid to the tray in his hand.  With… bowls?

She jumped slightly as he poured sauce onto her chest, thick enough not to run off of her, then another, making sure not to mix them as he continued to do so down her abdomen.  When he finished, setting down a long plate of bread and other food items next to her, he moved on without comment.

She lay still, as ordered, still clenching around the bottle as another wave of wetness dripped around the edges, off of her thighs.  She was still having trouble processing that she was _here._   That this was _happening._

So preoccupied was Royal with all of it—her nakedness, the food, the _bottle of wine filling up her cunt_ —that she tuned out the buzzing of activity, squirming around, doing her best not to disturb her setup as she tried to settle her heartbeat, distract herself from the relentless fullness inside her that tempted but didn’t deliver.  She had no doubts that she would be stopped swiftly should she reach down and try to follow through, and likely lose any chance of coming at all that evening.

And then the guests started to arrive.

Royal twisted to her head to the side, watching carefully.  All of them well-dressed, in formal Xerxesian clothing, and taking in the expanse of slaves in front of them with hungry eyes.  Royal’s breath caught as more than a few of them swept over her, lingering on her nakedness, the way she had been blatantly offered on the table.

Nobility worked their way through the room, stopping off at various other slaves, coming ever closer to Royal as they chattered idly with each other, drinks plucked up from luckier slaves—

No, not drinks, she realized as they came closer.  Empty glasses.  She swallowed.

The first handful finally got within range, a woman reaching out to pluck a piece of bread from the table and swipe it through the oil trickling down the sides of Royal’s hips.  Without even a glance at her “table,” she took a bite, smiling at something her conversation partner said before both of them moved on.

The dismissal, of being seen as nothing more than an object, a stationary decoration, left her burning.  In several ways.  Frustration, for being so thoroughly ignored, and then… want.  For it to happen again.

What was _wrong_ with her?

She gasped in shock as the bottle suddenly tilted forward, pressing up against and inside her as a man held his glass under the neck and poured, eyes fixed between her legs as he filled it with wine.  Her breath quickened, the stretch agonizingly wonderful, even after all this time with the bottle inside her, and a slow, tempting wave of pleasure rolled through her.  The man finished, letting the bottle go and letting it spring back into place.

Royal grunted, closing her eyes at the sensation, at how much she enjoyed it.

Someone else—she couldn’t see who—took his place, pouring as well, and she could _feel_ the eyes on her, taking her in, from exposed breast down her stomach to where glass met skin.  She whined softly as the bottle tilted again, stretching her again, leaving her shaking again.

She prayed this wouldn’t happen every night, amazing as it might be.  She wasn’t sure that she could handle it.

Others came and went, and Royal managed to open her eyes after some time.  Nobles lingered nearby, socializing, some barely paying her mind, others taking in the sight of her as if she were another feast.  One woman ran her hand down Royal’s thigh, then up her side, and Royal caught sight of her guard from earlier, watching carefully, prepared to move if she should try anything else.  The woman, however, drew away after lingering on the condiments on Royal’s stomach, and Royal’s guard relaxed, settling back into place.

Protection, Royal realized hazily, before more pieces clicked.

King Edris didn’t want her touched any more than necessary.  He didn’t want anyone to work her up, not any more than she was already becoming, with these foreign touches and raking glances.  He didn’t want her coming, the bastard.  The _brat._

She groaned again, arching her hips slightly the next time someone reached out to pour the wine—

But instead of tipping it, they gripped the neck of the bottle, tugging it out, leaving her empty.

Royal panted, almost dizzy from the sudden lack of fullness, and lifted her head to blink slowly, trying to clear her head and sort out what had just happened.

Her guard had returned and had set aside the bottle.  Reaching to the side, she accepted another, turning back to Royal and pressing it against her again.

The glass worked its way inside, filling her back up, not giving her a chance to relax for even the shortest of moments.  Royal yelped, jerking her hips up again, hoping that it could tug her closer—

But the guard thrust quickly and decisively, leaving the bottle in place before Royal could manage to get much, if anything, out of it.  Damn.

She endured it, the disinterested use of her torso as a platter, the twisting and stretching and replacing of the bottle in her cunt, each and every one an agonizing tease that tugged her closer to release before dropping back away.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Her eyes snapped open at the familiar voice, and they met a pair of golden ones, taking her in haughtily, a faint smirk on that young, handsome face.

The elegant, perfect, golden ponytail didn’t help with the haughtiness, nor did the smirk on his face as he traced a finger up the inside of her thigh, leaving her shivering.

“Not as much as you are, clearly,” she gritted out, doing her best not to look at his hand—but that only drew her attention back to his face, which didn’t help her situation much.

“I could help with that, you know,” Edris mused, hand tracing up her thigh again before it gripped the neck of the bottle.  She gasped, tensing slightly.  Was he really going to—!

He tugged it partway out, despite it being half full, then pushed in again, filling her, leaving her groaning.  Involuntarily, she spread her legs even more, giving him more room—and he took it, pulling and pushing and fucking her slowly with the bottle, finally, _finally_ giving her what she needed.

He brought her closer, wonderfully so, closer than she had been all evening, and she moaned softly as the promise of pleasure started to build, started to—

And then he pulled his hand away.

“ _What?_ ” she panted, watching him wildly, eyes wide as even more wetness trickled down around the glass, but leaving her more frustrated than she had been all night.

Edris leaned down, lips ghosting against her ear, before he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.  His breath tickled her hair as he murmured, “Patience.  I’ll see you personally later tonight.”

With a smirk, he withdrew, turning on his heel and sauntering away, leaving Royal breathless.

Breathless, she insisted to herself, only with how much of an _ass_ he was.

Still.  Later tonight.  She could hold on.  She could do this.

Maybe.


End file.
